


Fête Accompli

by Marguerite



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-28
Updated: 2009-03-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marguerite/pseuds/Marguerite
Summary: "You won't believe how much underwear goes with this dress."





	Fête Accompli

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Late homework for State of the Union Challenge for party fic.  


* * *

Josh Lyman's Office  
Tuesday

"Why do people keep putting Toby in charge of things that are meant to be festive?"

Josh chuckled into his coffee cup. "CJ, it's no big deal."

"It is a big deal," CJ argued from the doorway. "It's the Costume Ball for the Children's Leukemia Foundation, run by a member of White House Senior Staff. There'll be press everywhere, and their photos of the ball will consist of Toby sitting in the corner in the dark, drinking scotch and keeping people away from him with those damn smelly cigars."

"It won't be that bad."

"Josh, it's going to be exactly that bad." CJ finally let go of the doorframe and entered Josh's office, perching on the edge of his desk next to his propped-up feet. "You know we're going to have to go."

"To a...costume party?"

"It's an important event, Josh. It raises hundreds of thousands of dollars for a good cause."

"A costume party?"

Even as Josh began to register his panic, CJ was calming down and finding the silver lining. "And there's the added benefit of some good visuals, which frankly we could use right about now."

"A costume party?"

"And I assume you'll be going as a parrot, Josh, since all you do is repeat the same phrase over and over." She pulled the coffee cup out of his hand and set it firmly on the desk. "I'm saying that we need this, and we need as many people from the West Wing to cooperate as humanly possible."

"I'm not doing this alone."

"You won't be alone. Sam and I are going. Even the President and the First Lady will be putting in an appearance. Leo says they're renting George and Martha Washington costumes."

"But you'll enjoy it. I need to bring someone who's going to suffer." Josh leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. A slow, evil smile spread across his lips as he turned his head toward the open door.

"Donnatella Moss!"

***

North Entrance  
Friday night

 

"I'm not exactly sure how Donna roped us into this, but it's weird." Ed adjusted his cone-shaped headpiece with one hand and scratched under the tubular costume with the other. "Why'd I have to be Blue?"

"At least you're not Red," Margaret groused. "I mean, talk about your keen grasp of the obvious."

Carol adjusted her purple costume. "Whose idea was this, anyway, to go as a box of crayons?"

"I think it was Larry's. If it wasn't, let's blame it on him anyway," declared Ginger, who was in a particularly unflattering shade of green. "At least we get to go in the motorcade."

"We'd better head out to the entrance. It's gonna take forever to get us into the limo." Bonnie swept out of the room, regal in spite of her silly orange get-up, taking the rest of the assistants with her. "Hey, CJ, nice threads!"

"Thanks." CJ's elaborate Marie Antoinette costume came complete with a blood-red ring around her neck. "I hate this damn wig, though."

"Tell me about it," Bonnie said sympathetically as she pointed out her orange cone.

"You have a point. Get it? A point." The aides groaned. "Okay. Well. See you there." Her eyes narrowed as she saw Toby walking up to her in a plain, elegant tuxedo. "And what the hell are you supposed to be?"

"I'm cleverly disguised as a middle-aged, balding curmudgeon whose puckish ex-wife is trying to humiliate him. I deserve a prize."

"You're no fun whatsoever."

"A trenchant observation, Your Majesty." He made a mocking bow and CJ smacked him on the head, hard, with her gilded fan.

"Get thee hence, varlet."

"I love it when you talk dirty," Toby mumbled into her ear before walking down the hall, whistling, with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Hey, CJ - you look great!" Sam bounded up to her, his lean body clad in tight black leather pants, knee-high boots, and a poet's shirt left fetchingly open at the neck. Draped across his arm was a black cloak.

"What are you?" CJ asked, intrigued in spite of herself.

"I'm a pirate."

"I thought you were going to be Prince Charming and Ainsley was going to be Snow White."

"Ainsley got called home for a family thing."

"So?" CJ raised her eyebrows at him. "You'd still have been a good Prince Charming."

Sam looked down and away from her. "Nah. I did that once and never heard the end of it. I'd much rather be a pirate."

"Okay. And where the hell are Josh and Donna?"

"Josh is on his way, and Bonnie said Donna's still changing and she'll meet us at the car."

"Did you see Toby? He's just wearing a tux!"

"And what's wrong with that?" Josh asked, simpering, as he walked up to them in his tuxedo. His hair was lightly gelled into something like order and a white silk scarf trailed its fringes along his exquisitely cut coat.

Sam, outraged, pointed to himself with both hands. "Oh, come on - look at me, I'm in this pirate getup, and you're..."

"Bond. Josh Bond."

CJ groaned and covered her eyes. "You're turning into Toby. Only you're not very good at it."

"Coming from deposed royalty, I take that as a compliment." Josh extended his arm to CJ, who took it even though she rolled her eyes at him.

Sam followed alongside Josh. "You could've been a pirate, too."

"Not without a sword!" Josh gestured toward an imaginary scabbard with the cup of coffee he was clutching. "And no way could I wear an open shirt, not with...well, I'd scare the kids."

"No kids at this thing," CJ informed him. "It's all about the grownups, and the grownups with money, at that." The panniers holding out the sides of her skirt were too wide for the narrow doorway, so she had to turn sideways to catch up to Toby, who looking at his watch with a sour expression.

"French doors were invented because of this style of undergarment," Sam supplied helpfully. "The device was actually called 'panniers' because it looked like a pair of the baskets women carried on their hips when they took bread to market. Sort of like wire cages attached to a belt, so they were really more like infrastructure than underwear."

Toby and Josh shot annoyed looks at him.

"Let's go, Architecture Boy." CJ led the group outside and settled herself in the limo, taking up an entire seat with her silver gown. Sam and Josh sat opposite, Josh taking tentative sips of his coffee.

"Oh. Wow." Sam pointed toward the door. Donna approached them, pale and graceful in a white and silver Grecian-style gown complete with feathered wings at her back. "Just...wow," Sam said again.

"Thanks, Sam." Donna had two spots of high color on her cheeks that dissipated when she looked at Josh's mocking expression.

"What're you supposed to be?" he asked as he got out to allow her to slide into the car. Before Donna could answer, Josh reached out and closed the door – on the wings, which collapsed with a terrible, gruesome snapping like a femur being cracked.

He opened the door again. "Oops," he muttered as he took his seat next to his outraged assistant.

The driver took off in the long motorcade while Sam surveyed the damage. "I think we could make them stand out again if we had some duct tape..."

Donna twisted her head to get a look at the disaster, then groaned. "Never mind, I'll take them off when I get there."

"Then what will you be?" Josh asked. He had enough sense to look contrite.

"She can be a Greek goddess. Or an...unwinged angel. Or, you know, a sylph," Sam offered helpfully.

"A...sylph?"

"You know, Josh, a spirit, like a wood sprite."

"That's a good idea. Donna, you can be a Sylph. Named Phyllis." 

No one laughed.

"Sylph-phillis. C'mon, Donna, I'm sorry," Josh said, gesturing with his coffee cup. The lid chose that moment to come off, dousing Donna's gauzy skirts with thick, black liquid.

"Dammit!" Josh grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and started scrubbing the skirt, ignoring Donna's shriek as the hot coffee scalded her thigh. After a few moments of his tender ministrations, Donna's skirt was beyond salvation. "There you go, only that's...worse...I'm so sorry, Donna."

She looked down at the various rust-colored splotches without saying a word. Sam put his pirate cape across her lap so she wouldn't have to keep seeing the damage.

The silent ride to the hotel seemed to take forever. Or not long enough. "We're here," CJ said softly and Donna looked at Josh with a stricken expression.

"Come anyway," Josh said as he slid out of the closest door. "You can be Cindersylpha."

"That's not funny, Josh," CJ said.

Donna's eyes filled with angry tears. "I can't even get out of the car. I look like an idiot," she whispered.

"C'mon, Donna, you can get out of the car. I'll help you." Josh pulled at her arms, but he had one foot on the running board of the limo, not noticing that Donna's skirt was beneath his shoe. The sound of rending fabric filled the air as chiffon fell away in long strips.

No one moved for a moment. All around them were happy voices, people going to the gala event, but their little group was utterly, painfully silent.

"Take her back, Frank?" CJ asked hopefully, but the driver shook his head.

"I can't leave the group, Ms. Cregg. I'm really sorry."

"Can she stay in the car?"

Again the driver shook his head. "I'm sorry. Secret Service would have my head. In fact, I need to get moving right away - the President's car is waiting. I'll be back for you at one." With that he put his foot on the gas and drove away to join the rest of the limos in the motorcade.

Without a sound, Sam helped Donna wrap herself up in his cloak. She looked small and wounded as she refused Josh's hand. She walked slowly, holding the front of her ruined gown together with one hand and clutching the cloak with the other.

"Want me to get you a cab?" Josh asked.

"The party's secure because of the President and First Lady. They're not letting any transportation or private cars come in or out. I'm so sorry, Donna," CJ murmured, "but I think you're stuck here."

Josh piped up again, his voice high and helpless. "We can put you in the kitchen...you could still get something good to eat, and we'll bring you drinks..."

"I'd just be in the way." She slumped alongside them as they went through the lobby toward the ballroom. "Look - there are chairs over by the window. I'll just go sit behind the curtains, and you can come get me when it's time to go."

"Donna, I'm so sorry...you looked wonderful...I..."

"Never mind, Josh." Sam moved a folding chair over to the curtained area. Donna returned his cape and sat down, pulling the heavy velvet drapes around her. The thick, soft fabric was a welcome cocoon, muffling the happy voices she didn't want to hear.

A few minutes later the unmistakable sound of the Secret Service phalanx intruded on the more pleasant strains of a waltz wafting from the ballroom, but it didn't occur to her that anyone would want to investigate the coffee-stained shoe sticking out from under the curtain. She startled, unaware that they had spotted her, as they yanked the curtains aside and exposed her in her ruined finery.

Beyond the angry-looking agents she saw the President and First Lady dressed as George and Martha Washington, complete with powdered wigs. "It's okay, that's Donna Moss, she's with us," said the First Lady.

The President waved his agents aside and drew near to Donna, looking her up and down with concern. "Donna, was there some sort of accident? What happened?"

"Josh happened," she moaned as she stood up, showing the disaster wrought on her costume. "He slammed my wings in the car door, spilled coffee on me, tried to wipe it up, then he stepped on the skirt and tore it. I can't go in there looking like this."

"No, you can't," said the First Lady. "But it's ridiculous to leave you sitting behind the curtains like that." She stepped forward and took Donna's cold hand. "Congresswoman Wyatt reserved a room so she can change when she gets here, and it's also where Jed and I can duck if we need to get out of the party. Why don't you sit in there, and I'll let the others know where you are."

"Thank you, ma'am," Donna whispered as the First Lady took her arm and led her away. As they passed the double doors, she looked inside and saw Josh dancing with CJ, laughing, everyone festive and ebullient.

The hotel room was just down the hall, guarded by four agents. "When Congresswoman Wyatt comes, let her know Ms. Moss is in here and that it's okay," Abbey told the agents as she led Donna inside and handed her the hotel bathrobe. "Put this on, Donna. We'll find you something to wear home."

Slowly, as if in a murky nightmare, Donna walked into the bathroom. Her hands shook as she peeled off the ruined costume. The tattered wings looked as if they'd been buried for six months and there was a red blister on her leg where the coffee had scalded her. The bathrobe was huge, but she just rolled up the sleeves and went back into the main room.

"Well, that's a little better, isn't it?" asked the First Lady. She walked up to Donna, motioning for her to take a seat. "I'm gonna get the guys to order you something from room service. What would you like?"

"That's thoughtful of you, ma'am, but I don't think I can eat anything."

Abbey sat beside her and patted her arm. "You were really looking forward to this evening, weren't you?"

Donna nodded, eyes huge and full of tears. "I worked a long time on the costume, ma'am. I wanted to contribute something to the evening, to show that even the staff's assistants would be glad to participate and take it really seriously." The mood was too somber. "Besides, someone has to make sure Josh doesn't get drunk and do something...you know."

"Stupid?" the First Lady asked, and Donna found herself smiling. "I'll keep an eye on him. And I'm so sorry this happened." She patted Donna's arm again, then reached down to squeeze her hand. "We'll see you later, okay?"

"Yes. Thank you, ma'am." She waited until the First Lady left before she flopped on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. Tears didn't come - she was beyond misery at that point. After a few minutes she turned her head to the side and caught a glimpse of something shiny through the louvers of the closet door. A formal gown.

She rose and went to get a better look, and when she saw the garment, she gasped aloud. Ice-blue satin, obviously meant to be something from the nineteenth century, it had delicate ivory lace and silk roses at the low bodice and a scattering of embroidered silver butterflies all along the skirt, rising up toward the narrow, pointed waistline.

Her hands took hold of the hanger without consulting her brain. With the knowledge that this dress probably cost more than her college education, Donna held the heavy gown against her terrycloth-wrapped body and looked at herself in the mirror. Turning slightly, she listened to the satisfying rustle of the fabric and smiled at the way the lustrous surface rested against her skin.

"Gorgeous, isn't it? It's a copy of a gown by Jean-Charles Worth." Andrea Wyatt strode in the room, key in hand. Donna's presence didn't seem to perturb her in the least. "The original's at the Met in New York."

Donna gasped and almost dropped the dress as she put her other hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry--the First Lady said I could wait here and I saw this and...oh...I'm Donna Moss, Josh Lyman's assistant."

"I'm Andrea Wyatt."

"I know - I'm Donna Moss, I'm Josh Lyman's...I already told you that."

"That's okay." Andrea smiled conspiratorially. "A little bird whispered in my ear that you had a mishap with your costume tonight."

"You could say that," Donna groaned, pointing toward the bathroom. Andrea leaned over and took a peek, her nose wrinkling as she shook her head.

"Josh did all that?"

"Within the space of five minutes."

"He's a marvel."

"So I've been told. Mostly by him." Donna hung the gown on the closet door. "Can I help you change or something?"

"Actually, I came to pick the dress up so I can return it in the morning - there's an emergency committee session, so I won't be able to stay." She paused for a moment. "I hate to duck out like this. I'd promised Toby that I'd do the mingling thing with him - he's not really what you'd call a 'people person...'" Both women chuckled. "...and I didn't want to leave him unattended. Would you be an angel, Donna, and fill in for me?"

"An...angel?"

Andrea looked back at the discarded, destroyed costume. "Ouch. Bad choice of words. But look, you're as tall as I am, and about the same size, so this dress should fit - or come close enough to be fixed with some safety pins."

"That's very thoughtful, Congresswoman, but I don't...don't feel very celebratory tonight."

"Donna." Andrea grinned at her. "It's not about celebration. It's about living well." At Donna's uncomprehending expression, she added, "Revenge. Living well..."

"...is the best revenge," the women finished together.

"Come on, then," Andrea said. "I'll do your hair, but we have to hurry up because you won't believe how much underwear goes with this dress."

***

CJ kept an eye on Toby in Andrea's absence. He was really doing the best he could, holding off on barking at Republicans who happened to be generous patrons of the Foundation, not smoking the huge cigar he held lovingly between his fingers, not having more than one glass of scotch. Someone was calling him into the foyer, so CJ turned her attention to Sam as she danced with him. His boots had thick soles and slight heels, almost bringing him to her height, and she enjoyed the lithe grace of his movements.

A few moments later Toby came back in, his arm linked through...

...Donna's.

She was stunning in the blue Worth gown, her hair piled elegantly on top of her head and secured with jeweled pins. Regal, slim, and glowing, she caught the eye of everyone in the room and whispers abounded.

Josh stopped dancing with the pretty brunette in his arms and just stared.

Toby brought Donna up with him to the microphone. "I'm sorry to have to announce that Congresswoman Wyatt is unavoidably detained. She has, however, sent a stand-in for the evening, and it's my pleasure to introduce you to Ms. Donnatella Moss."

People applauded and Donna blushed. CJ could see her scanning the crowd for Josh, who was excusing himself from his dance partner and heading her way.

Before he could get to her, however, the music started up again and Toby pulled her into his arms and began to dance. Like CJ, Donna was taller than her partner, but it didn't matter because Toby's steps were sure and he led her with gentle touches at her waist and palm.

A few political types recognized her as Josh's assistant, but most of the partygoers were "civilians" and had no idea who she was. They stared openly. This wasn't someone from D.C. society - they'd never seen her, and supposition abounded. A Senator's daughter, perhaps, or the sister of an ambassador? As the lovely lady in the perfect Edwardian gown glided past, her smooth skin gleaming in the softly lit room, the partygoers were breathless.

Josh, even more so.

Every time he tried to get near her, someone else would take her arm and lead her to the dance floor. Businessmen, Doctors, a Nobel-Prize-winning chemist, two famous actors, the French ambassador, and Sam all swept her into their arms, leaving her flushed and breathless when she was asked for the final dance of the evening.

She took the hand of the President, trembling a little when all other couples left the floor, and let him lead her in a surprisingly graceful waltz.

"You've made quite a transformation, Donna," the President said softly as he turned her around and around.

"I've never been so...I mean, no one's ever...and I'm dancing with the President," she breathed.

"I'm glad you noticed. I'm probably the least impressive person in the room."

"Oh, no, sir. I didn't mean that. It's just...I'm not used to..."

Bartlet smiled. "You should get used to it. You'll probably be doing a lot of this after tonight. You're the belle of the ball," he whispered up to her. "Josh hasn't been able to take his eyes off you. He's been trying to get close enough to you to ask you for a dance all night. It's a shame, really, that he never got his chance."

He came to a sudden stop and put his hand over his heart. The orchestra stuttered, found a cadence, and fell silent. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm not accustomed to tripping the light fantastic, and if I don't unhand this lovely young lady then my wife will probably make sure I never dance again. I think I'd better take my leave, and ask my Deputy Chief of Staff to take over for me."

The First Lady planted her hands in the small of Josh's back and shoved him forward. The music swelled again, playing a sweeping melody as Josh stood in the spotlight with Donna.

With a diffidence she'd never seen in him before, Josh stepped forward and took Donna's gloved hand in his. "May I?" he whispered, and she found herself unable to do anything but nod.

He was not as elegant a dancer as Sam, but he moved smoothly with the music and Donna rested her head on his shoulder, feeling light-headed and suddenly, inexplicably happy. With the ease of two old friends who knew one another's every movement, they danced until the song ended and the guests began to applaud.

Toby thanked everyone for attending and wished them all a good night. He could hear the President say something to one of his agents about getting motorcade moving before Josh got back. Even as he chuckled into his beard he watched Josh walk Donna out of the ballroom, his hand at the small of her back. Or slightly below it.

Toby sat down and pulled his much-loved cigar out of his pocket, caressing it between thumb and forefinger.

"You coming?" CJ asked as she paused by his side, balancing with one hand on his shoulder while she removed her shoes with the other.

"Nah, I'm gonna see how the financial stuff shook out so I can call Andrea in the morning."

"The President's suddenly in a big hurry to go. You'll miss the motorcade."

"I have a room. Last one in the hotel. So I can stick around and savor my victory for a little while longer."

"You did great." CJ leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." He sounded pleased with himself.

"But Donna did better."

He didn't flinch. From one of his pockets he produced a lighter and struck a flame, then lit his cigar with exaggerated care. "She did even better than you think. The President and First Lady didn't use Andrea's room, they're just going back to the White House, so they have the place to themselves."

"They and themselves, who?"

"CJ." He cocked his head. He combined patience with smirking until the nickel finally dropped.

"Oh. No. No, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes. It may well have been a set-up, but there it is." Toby blew a smoke ring in the direction of CJ's anguished face. "Hey, at least you know what you'll be doing first thing tomorrow."

"That man is--"

"The President of the United States?"

"That man is determined to make my life a living hell." She sighed, her shoulders slumped, affording Toby a very alluring view of her cleavage. He was watching, and she became aware he was watching. With a non-royal grunt she stood up straight, hitched up the bodice of the gown, then swatted him hard on the side of the head before walking out of the room without a word.

"That's the kitchen, there, CJ," Toby called after her as he turned the chair around so he was sitting in it with his arms crossed over the back. He blew out another smoke ring, and then another, waiting.

***

Unlikely as it seemed, they were almost paralyzed by shyness when the door closed behind them. Josh stood against the door, hands clasped behind his back, trying to keep his breathing even as Donna handed him her gloves before gliding toward the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" he asked, surprised at the rough, needy edge to his voice.

"To change so we can get back in the motorcade. I can't possibly wear this dress outside in the rain, it's too valuable, so I'm about to..." She paused, her fingers pressed over her mouth. "The First Lady said there'd be...I don't have anything to change into!"

Josh, glad to have something to do, yanked the door open and found himself face to face with the concierge. "Did anyone leave clothes for Ms. Moss?"

"I was about to knock - I believe that someone's dropping a package off for her tomorrow morning. The President and First Lady said she was to stay here tonight as their guest." The concierge's expression was noncommittal but there was a hint of knowing laughter in his voice. "I'll have someone contact you."

"Have them contact her, you mean - I'm going home in the motorcade."

"Sir," the beleaguered man began, but before he could say another word Josh put his palms over his face and moaned.

"The motorcade..."

"Left."

"Cabs..."

"None allowed until the motorcade is cleared. Also, it's raining. I have about a hundred and fifty people in the lobby. It's likely to take several hours."

"Hours." Josh rubbed his eyes. "So I should get a room, too?"

He could swear the man was trying not to laugh at him as he shook his head. "I'm afraid that ship's pretty much sailed, Mr. Lyman. The President said you were to be his guest, as well, and to wish you - both - a good evening."

"Yeah. Thanks." Slowly, he went back into the room and pressed his spine firmly along the wall. His voice was strained as he spoke in the direction of the bathroom. "I have good news and bad news."

"Josh, these shoes are a size too small and there are, like, fifty-seven hairpins going straight into my skull. Tell me the good news before this damn corset kills me."

He had to gulp back a low moan at the thought of Donna's corset. "The good news is that someone's sending clothes."

"And?" Donna inquired. "The bad news?"

"They'll be here in the morning. The President and First Lady thought you'd be more comfortable staying here overnight."

The bathroom door opened and Donna glared at him. "What am I supposed to wear in the meantime?"

"A...big smile?" Josh found himself ducking a flying room service menu. "Seriously, just put on the robe, and let's get some sleep."

"Okay." Donna took two steps, her gown swishing alluringly, then turned back to Josh. "Who is this 'let's' of whom you speak?"

"Yeah, that's the bad news part. More...of the bad news part. It's pouring down rain, I've missed the motorcade, there are a hundred and fifty people in the lobby waiting for cabs, and there aren't any rooms left because of the bad weather. I'll just crash on the sofa, okay?"

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "You'll get a backache. I'll sleep on the sofa."

"You'll get a backache, and I'll have to live with it. Donna. Let me be a gentleman for once, okay?" He tilted his head to one side and gave her a sweet smile, the one she called "dopey."

Her expression softened. She held her hands out to him. "We can share. We've crashed together before, remember?"

"Yeah, but at the time I was kinda...shot." He looked away from the tenderness in her eyes. "It's not as if you had anything to fear from me."

"I still don't." She reached up and untied his bow tie, then continued further up to stroke the side of his face. "I don't have anything to be afraid of."

His body reacted strongly, removing much-needed blood from his brain and sending it south like the swallows returning to Capistrano. He smiled, turning his head to kiss Donna's palm. "Thanks, Donna."

"I mean it." She took a few steps backward, raising her arms over her head so she could undo the intricate hairstyle. Her fingers worked nimbly on the hairpins, and moments later her hair cascaded down over her shoulders. "I may need some help," she whispered. "This dress fastens up the side, and the corset's so tight I can't twist."

His fingers trembled as he fumbled with the hooks and eyes. The underside of Donna's arm, so soft and supple, brushed the back of his hand several times until at last he'd opened the side enough for Donna to maneuver. She fidgeted with safety pins for a moment at either shoulder, then pushed downward and wriggled out of the gown. It lapped around her ankles like sea foam.

Josh gasped aloud. Donna was now clad only in a lacy petticoat under a fierce-looking corset that pushed her breasts up and made her narrow waist even smaller. "I have something to be afraid of," Josh gulped.

"What's that?" Donna asked, smiling as she stepped out of the expensive pile of froth at her feet.

"Embarrassing myself."

"How is that different from any other day of...oh." A flush traveled across her cheeks as she glanced at Josh from his gritted teeth to the undeniable evidence of his arousal, then back up at his eyes. "That kind of embarrassing yourself."

He nodded. Sharply. It was entirely possible, he thought, that he could actually pass out cold as Donna turned her back to him and began to unhook the corset. Every popping sound made by a fastener went directly to Josh's groin. Finally the corset was added to the pile of clothes, and Donna sighed with relief, looking back at Josh over her shoulder.

The thin cotton petticoat did nothing to hide her luscious curves. The fabric was so fine that Josh could see vertical marks where the corset stays had pushed against Donna's flesh. "Does that hurt?" he asked, reaching out with one unstable hand to rub lightly along one of the welts.

"Ow, yeah, it hurts," she hissed. "No wonder those women always looked so cranky."

"You didn't look cranky tonight," Josh murmured into her ear as he used both hands to smooth the tension from Donna's back. "You looked like a princess."

"The President said you couldn't take your eyes off me."

"The President is a wise, if rather crafty, man." Josh turned Donna around and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'd like not to take my eyes off you for the next eight hours or so," he whispered.

"I'd like that, too." Her voice was quiet, so quiet that Josh almost had to lean over to hear her. She worked the buttons on his tux shirt, one at a time, pausing to run her finger in a long line from his collarbone to his navel. "I'd like..."

"Donna."

She turned her face up to him, a flower searching for sunlight, and Josh moved his hands to the back of her head so that he could kiss her. Josh felt her melting into him, graceful and fluid, as he explored her wine-sweetened mouth. She was doing the same to him, her wet little tongue testing his flavor. He moaned into her mouth, opening his eyes as he pulled back enough for them to get some air.

When he looked at Donna, all he saw were colors. Her skin was pink instead of its usual ivory, and her lips were crimson. Even her eyes seemed to be a more intense blue than before, or perhaps it was because her pupils were so dilated. "Josh," she breathed, holding him gently around the waist. "Josh."

"Mmm?" He dipped his head into the curve of her neck and tasted her flesh there, as well. It was a little salty and still held a faint fragrance he didn't know the name of but that would forever be associated with her.

She pulled him closer and he abandoned all attempts to hide his achingly swollen groin, rocking his hips back and forth to tease her, to show her what she'd done to him, to intimate what he desperately wanted to do next. Donna took two steps backwards, smiling even as the blush stole further up her cheeks, and let the undergarment flow off of her body.

That did it. Josh made a sound somewhere between a moan and a howl, almost destroying his tuxedo pants in his frantic effort to remove them. Donna was chuckling at him but he didn't care, because it wasn't her normal laugh but had a deep, resonant quality that sent shockwaves through every inch of his body.

As he stripped down to his underwear, he realized with a jolt that Donna still had on the blue brocade slippers and the lace-and-ribbon trimmed pantalettes. He dropped to his knees, pulling off first one shoe and then the other, stroking her insteps, trailing his fingers up over her ankles and calves. He felt something soft brushing past his cheek and looked up to see Donna removing the pantalettes. There was an angry, red mark on one thigh where his coffee had spilled. "I'm so sorry," he murmured as he kissed just above the blister, and Donna's fingers in his hair were a welcome absolution.

"I can think of ways," she whispered as he kissed his way up her leg, "for you to make it up to me."

***

The waiters had cleared the tables and the staff was stacking the chairs and throwing away the debris from the party. From his vantage point on the little stage Toby watched them at work, keeping his eye on one particular figure as it tried to slip out a side door.

"Hey," he said loudly.

Andrea Wyatt froze in her tracks. "I don't suppose there's any chance that isn't you, is there?" 

"Two chances. Slim, and--"

"None," she finished for him. "I'm busted, huh?"

"Very. Get up here, Congresswoman, and take your interrogation like a man. Or something like that."

Andrea walked up and cuffed him.

"You know, that's three times this evening that a woman has struck me," Toby said mildly, putting the cigar out in a half-empty water glass.

"It's been a slow night." Andrea pulled up a chair and mirrored Toby's posture.

"I'd say this was the fastest emergency session in the history of Congress."

"We think quickly."

"Especially when you're not together in any way, shape or form."

Andi turned her soft, intelligent gaze on him. "Yeah. Well. Abbey caught me in the hall when I first got here."

"This is Abbey's doing?"

"Not at all. She just said that Donna'd gone to all this trouble and Josh managed to screw everything up. I walked into my room and she was holding the dress up to herself in front of the mirror, and, well, she did it more justice than I ever would, so..." Toby got to his feet, head tilted to one side, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "it just seemed...and I spent so much time organizing the ball that I wanted to see how it came out..."

He leaned over. His lips, turned upward in a smile, brushed against hers.

"...and I wanted to get a taste of the salmon mousse, so I went into the kitchen..."

He kissed her again, flicking his tongue between her lips. A little tease, a bold request. "I have a room," he breathed against her mouth. "A nice room. Right next to yours. And I can order salmon mousse."

Andi stood up and put her hands on Toby's chest. "We agreed, Toby. We can't...do this. Anymore."

"So we won't do this. We'll do something else. You'll never get a cab in this weather," he whispered.

"I have my car." Toby started to cut her off, started to say that it didn't matter, but something in her eyes made him stop. She held his face gently, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. "It won't change anything. We can't. I'm sorry."

He nodded, silent and brooding.

"Toby?"

"Yeah." It wasn't a question, just a little sigh.

"You know this - what just happened - wasn't about me, right?"

Another sigh. Toby ran his hands across his face. "Yeah."

"You're an open book, Pokey. Just go to your room and I'll talk to you early next week, okay?" She hugged him, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. "Have a good night."

"You too." Toby took his time getting to his hotel room, pausing with his key in his hand. Not the way he'd hoped to end his night. But it'd have to do, sleeping alone next door to God-knows-what was happening with Josh and Donna. He just hoped that this very fancy hotel had very thick walls.

Upon entering his room, the first thing he did was trip over something.

"Ow! What the..." He leaned over, scrabbling with one hand for the light switch while trying to figure out what had gotten caught in his shoe with the other. It felt like wire cages attached to a belt...

And the lights came up, revealing CJ in a hotel bathrobe with her feet propped up on the table, fanning herself. She smiled at Toby. "The security in this hotel is shocking, just shocking."

He leaned against the door. "Planning an execution, Your Majesty?"

"No." Her voice was dark, full of the promise of adventure, and she opened her arms to him. "Let them eat cake."

***

The End

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